When a friend said he’d like to rent his home while in India, and I was looking for a temporary place to stay, I found his drive, and in the overgrown yard a mother dog with six puppies looking old enough to be weaned, so I found homes for five of them.
“The last puppy had been the only one to approach me and now I grabbed his hind legs as he dove under a big rock. Waiting in front of the Winn Dixie with the puppy in the cart, I felt sadder and sadder, until when an old lady said she’d have to ask her husband, as soon as she left, I picked up the puppy and ran to my car.”*
I named him Bhauji and for five weeks carried him like a baby. As I drove, he’d creep up from the passenger floor and lick my leg. When I left for India, he stayed with the veterinarian and her companion dogs.
On my return, two-and-a-half months later, my friend had already brought Bhauji back to the farm but he shied away from me for days until coaxing him closer.
Not having enough time for him, waking one morning at 3, I made an unusual decision. Calling Bhauji from the front porch, I hooked his leash, and for a year-and-a-half we walked the limerock road for an hour, passing a few homes, wooded O’leno State Park, and pastures—moonlight turning the road to black lace.
My realization is, “The love of a pet may open the heart’s depths.”
*A Flower for God